


A Twelve Step Plan

by fluentisona



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluentisona/pseuds/fluentisona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maura helps Jane cope after Casey's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Twelve Step Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before Casey came back into the picture (and disappeared again). Set pre-4x01. Spoilers up to that point.

Maura Isles understood death. As the Chief Medical Examiner for the commonwealth of Massachusetts, she had grown quite used to slicing into bodies that had grown cold to learn how they had died. There was a scientific distance from these bodies, regardless as to how heart-wrenching their stories might have been. Maura did not have to mourn those who passed beneath her knife. Sgt. Major Charles Jones was a very different story. Maura knew that she would have to mourn this loss. If not for herself, than at least for her best friend. 

“He’s dead,” Jane whispered, as she hung up the phone. “That was his sister. Casey’s dead.” She fell to the floor before Maura could catch her. She looked more like a pile of dirty laundry than she did Jane Rizzoli. Maura sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She was prepared when Jane began to sob, but not quite ready for the tumult of emotions that poured forth when Jane turned into the embrace and cried into Maura’s shoulder. They stayed like that for almost an hour, with Jane’s cries echoing through the small apartment. 

Finally, Jane regained her composure. Breathing deeply, she sat straight up and rested the back of her head against the wall. “The wake is tomorrow and the funeral is Wednesday,” she explained, looking at the ceiling, “Will you come with me?” 

Maura didn’t even have to think about it, she didn’t even pause. “Yes, Jane. Of course.” 

:::

Maura Isles understood grief. Her biological father may not have won “Father of the Year,” but his loss still remained in her heart, a constant ache she couldn’t quite shake. She held his hand as he died, felt the life leave his fingertips, and she understood then why they call it “Letting go.” Standing next to Jane as the military funeral came to an end, she held on tightly to her best friend’s hand as Jane squeezed her palm for all she was worth. “I still can’t believe that’s him in the casket,” Jane said, her voice gravelly with tears unshed, “I still can’t believe he’s really dead.” 

“It was a very risky operation, Jane,” Maura answered, her voice low, “He was prepared for this possibility.” 

Jane shook her head, “I wasn’t. I wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t prepare me for this.” The anger, Maura expected. Jane was naturally a short fuse with a long explosion. She knew the anger would come, she just didn’t think it would arrive this quickly. “Why would he go through this? If he knew, why would he go through this?” 

“He wanted to be the best for you,” Maura tried. She didn’t know what to say in these situations, how to comfort another human being. Jane may have made it easy for her to shed her awkwardness, but she still wasn’t made for these types of exchanges. 

Jane looked at the coffin as it was slowly lowered into the ground, “He already was.”

:::

Maura Isles understood anger. She was naturally a very composed woman, her emotions bottled deep beneath the surface and channeled into more positive pursuits: yoga, art, acquiring new languages. She learned how to deal with anger years ago, when her parents abandoned her for yet another holiday to spend their time together in Aspen or Amsterdam or wherever the hell they had disappeared to when she was sixteen and desperate for attention. But sixteen was a long time ago. 

Jane’s anger was fresh, violent, and raw. She was reckless and wild, unable to properly do her job because her mind was never fully on the task at hand. She was still the best detective in the state, Maura would stake her life on that, but she wasn’t performing to the caliber Maura was used to. It was difficult to not bring up the fact that Jane was underperforming, Maura was accustomed to telling Jane everything. But Maura knew she couldn’t talk to Jane about this. 

“She’s heartbroken,” Barry told her, a few months after the funeral.

“She’s never been good with loss,” Korsak calmly explained.

Frankie was the only one with any real advice. “I don’t think she loved him, Dr. Isles. I think she just loved the idea of him.” 

“What do you mean?” Maura asked. 

“Come on,” Frankie said, “She’s almost forty. She can be GI Jane all the time, but I’m her little brother. Jane didn’t love Jones. She loved the idea of being loved by someone.”

:::

Maura Isles understood comfort. She preferred the comfort of shopping sprees that spanned the globe and new clothes Jane couldn’t afford with her whole salary. She was partial to chocolate covered strawberries and Irish coffee. She sat down next to Jane on the small couch in her best friend’s apartment and handed over the six-pack she purchased on her way over. Maura wasn’t used to buying six-packs of bad beer, but if it helped Jane find closure, she was willing to do almost anything. 

“Thanks, Maur,” Jane said, her voice unnaturally sharp. It had reached that octave more than once in the last six months, brittle and bitter, and able to snap in half. “You wanna watch a movie. Grisham or some noir or something?” 

Jane was wearing sweatpants and an old softball t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and her eyes looked slightly less shadowed than they had in months. She looked comfortable, curled up on the coach with a newly opened bottle of beer. 

“Grisham is fine with me,” Maura answered, pouring herself a glass of wine from the stash she kept at Jane’s. She sat down next to Jane on the couch and pulled her best friend’s feet into her lap. As Jane turned on the DVD player, she began to rub the other woman’s feet. Jane fell asleep with her feet in Maura’s lap, and Maura eventually passed out awkwardly slumped over Jane’s knees, her head resting on her best friend’s chest. 

:::

Maura Isles understood acceptance. She was often the one to offer closure to victim’s families, explain how the murder took place and outline their loved one’s last moments. She believed that everyone could accept the death of a loved one, as long as they knew the truth. Jane knew the truth, had the death of Casey outlined before her by some of the best doctors in the world. Still, the woman seemed intent on not accepting Casey’s death. 

“I think it’s time to let go,” Jane said, almost a year after Casey’s death. The declaration startled Maura so much she dropped the glass of wine she was holding. As she leaned over to pick it up, she felt a hand on the small of her back. The hand slowly moved up her back, firm but hesitant. 

Maura straightened up her back and stood as she threw out the broken glass. Jane’s hand fell from her back with ease. “Do you?” Maura asked, trying to keep her tone from being too hopeful.

Jane nodded. “I miss him,” she admitted, “I think I always will. But I know it’s time to move on.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Maura said, as she pulled Jane into a hug. The two fell together and neither let go for a long time. When they let go, Maura pulled out a bottle of her best whiskey and poured them both a shot. 

“To the past,” she said, with gusto. 

Jane raised her own glass, “To the future.” 

:::

Maura Isles understood infatuation. It was a feeling she had experienced before—with Ian, most especially, but with others as well. She recognized the butterflies in her stomach, the need to giggle even when the joke wasn’t funny. She could feel the twists in her gut and the strain on her heartstrings every time she saw the object of her affection. After being friends for ten years, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t realized her romantic feelings towards Jane earlier. 

“Can you send up the information as soon as it’s processed? Frost and I are gonna go talk to one of the suspects,” Jane said, pulling on one of Maura’s stray curls. Their physical intimacy had increased exponentially since Jane made the decision to move on. There had been a few dates since that decision was made. None of them had made it up to Jane’s bed as far as Maura knew. She counted it as a secret victory that she had spent time in Jane’s bed at least once a week since before Casey passed away. When you’re falling for your straight best friend, you learn to take what you can get. 

Jane was not the first woman that Maura had been infatuated with, and Maura doubted Jane would be the last. But Maura rarely found women sexually appealing, and while Jane was tugging on her heartstrings in the worst way, Maura had yet to include her in any self-love fantasies. So perhaps, for now, their friendship was safe. 

:::

Maura Isles understood flirtation. She was terrible with social etiquette and often misunderstood social cues, but she was an avid flirt and she knew how to get what she wanted. The problem with Jane, however, was that Maura was slowly beginning to want more than just witty banter and random physical outburst of appreciation. Eighteen months after Casey’s death, and Jane had yet to take a man back to her apartment. Maura had to have just a little bit of hope at what that meant. 

“I think this is the last of his clothing,” Jane said, dropping a second box onto the empty examining bed, “See if you can find any DNA. Is there anything else you need?”

Maura smiled prettily, in a way that was both coy and inviting. “You,” she admitted, “But then, you know that.” 

“Cute, Maur,” Jane replied, unfazed by her best friend’s remarks. “I’ll grill burgers tonight? Mom’s dragging both of us into planning TJ’s birthday party.” 

“Mhm,” Maura made a sound between a hum and an agreement, “I like watching you grill. It puts you in your element.” 

“Are you hitting on me, Maura?” Jane finally asked, after eighteen months of them dancing around the subject. 

Maura lowered her lashes and looked up at Jane expectantly, “So what if I am?”

“I,” Jane cut herself off and made for the stairs, “I’ll see you tonight. Try to get as much evidence as you can off those clothes. It’s probably our strongest lead right now.” 

:::

Maura Isles understood jealousy. She watched from across the room as Frost and Jane spoke quietly in a corner at the Camille and Robin’s anniversary party. She couldn’t quite hear their conversation, but with the way Jane was blushing, Maura was almost certain her partner was hitting on her. 

“I think she’s into you,” Barry whispered into Jane’s ear, his voice just audible above the loud romantic songs. 

Jane shook her head but couldn’t fight the blush the painted her cheeks bright red, “She hasn’t been interested for ten years. Why start now?”

“Just, go talk to her,” Barry suggested, before he squeezed Jane’s shoulder and moved passed her to talk to the cute new police officer with honey skin and eyes the color of a gathering storm. Maura didn’t notice his destination, however, she was too busy watching Jane as she crossed the room.

“I have to ask you something,” Jane said, once she was close enough to be heard over the music. “How do you feel about me dating a coworker?” 

Maura bit down the jealousy burning in her chest, “I’m sure you and Detective Frost will make a lovely couple. I wish you the best and I fully approve. Why wouldn’t I?”

Jane snorted. “I wasn’t talking about Frost, Maur,” she stated, not quite making eye contact with the blonde. Jane’s left hand moved a loose strand of Maura’s hair from out of her eyes and behind her ear. Her hand fell awkwardly. “I was talking about you.”

:::

Maura Isles understood fear. Right then, she was rendered motionless and speechless by it. She looked up at Jane with a question in her eyes. There was no way any of this was real. 

“Maur?” Jane asked, shaking the woman from her stupor, “I thought…I thought you were interested. I’m sorry. I’ll just…” she finished in a pause, “I’m just gonna go.” 

Maura watched as Jane crossed the room again, as Frost followed after her and Korsak followed behind the two of them. Frankie caught her eye, but all Maura could offer was a blank stare. She stood for a moment in silence, and then she was running after Jane as fast as her legs would carry her. 

Maura did not believe in allowing fear to fester beneath the surface, insidious and poisonous, like arsenic. So she ran until she found Jane, sitting in her apartment, with Barry opening up two bottles of beer and Korsak looking for something worth watching on the television. Korsak saw her first and quickly hit the power button. “Frost, we should go.” Frost was about to protest, but he then he saw Maura, and the two exited without another word. 

“Hey,” Jane greeted, taking a swig of her beer. Maura always liked that about her, amongst other things. She liked that Jane was always ready and willing to meet fear head on. “Sorry about…you shouldn’t have left the party.” 

“I think there’s nothing wrong with dating a coworker,” Maura replied, carefully moving towards her.

:::

Maura Isles understood desire. Their first kiss was tentative and slow, their breaths intermingling. Maura pulled back with every connection, breaking a long kiss into smaller ones, teasing while giving it all up. Jane chased after every move, pushing Maura back against the fridge, pinning her there with hands on either side of her hips. Now, after months of wanting her, Maura desired Jane as well. It was red-hot desire, the kind that burned deep beneath the skin. Maura felt the throb of it pulse through her entire body and settle between her legs. There was a need within her only Jane could satisfy, and as they pushed back and forth against the old refrigerator, Maura had a feeling that by the end of the night she’d have to beg. 

“I want you,” Jane admitted, through kisses fought for and won. “I want you so bad and I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

There was a moment when Maura wanted to ask what she meant, what “so long” implied. She decided that was a question for a different time and instead leaned back against the fridge, angling so Jane’s lips bypassed her face and latched onto her neck. She smirked victoriously, “So take me.”

And she did. They tripped through the apartment before falling flat onto Jane’s bed. Their hands moved across skin, marking and mapping every inch and eliciting cries so desperate Maura knew that Jane’s desire, like hers, was bursting forth after being denied for much too long. 

:::

Maura Isles understood commitment. It was a promise she had made to Jane long before they kissed. She knew what it meant to decide that someone had to be in your life forever. She knew what monogamy implied, even if she was not always the best at adhering to the concept. With Jane, she had a feeling that would be different. They had made love all night and well into morning. It wasn’t until the phone rang with an update from Korsak concerning their open case that either woman stirred from the warm comfort of Jane’s bed. Jane finished the conversation quickly and didn’t need to rush off. They were left sitting together, naked, and facing a very awkward morning-after conversation.

“I’ve wanted to be with you since the first time I made you laugh,” Jane admitted, the words surprisingly calm as she explained to Maura exactly what “so long” meant. “But you were with Ian, and then there were other men. And I had Dean and then Casey and…even when you were single I didn’t think you were interested. So I tried to make things work with Casey.”

“I was,” Maura replied, “I didn’t realize until these last few months. But I was. I am.”

“You are?” Jane asked. 

Maura nodded, “I’m interested and I’m in this. If you want me to be.”

Jane didn’t hesitate, she just pulled Maura back into her arms and kissed the other woman until neither one could breathe. “I want you to be.”

:::

Maura did not understand love. At least, she hadn’t before Jane walked into her life. Ian may have meant the world to her at one point, but Maura thought that was more because she built her world around him, as a stupid young girl infatuated with charm and adventure than true love. Her parents, while she knew they loved her, weren’t the doting kind. She had been respected and admired, but she did not know love until Jane Rizzoli became her best friend and opened her heart to the blonde. 

Now that they were together, Maura was beginning to understand. She would wake up early every morning to make Jane coffee, not because the other woman ever asked for it, but because Maura knew Jane appreciated the gesture. She found herself trying to decide if Jane would like the clothes she bought and the makeup she wore. She would catch herself smiling at random times, and blushing at the serendipity of being with Jane. And Jane reciprocated every emotion. 

At night, wrapped up in Jane’s arms, she felt passionate and alive, completely on fire. In the morning, she never failed to wake up with a smile on her face. On Sundays, when she snuggled in Jane’s lap while she and the boys watched football and Angela insisted on making dinner alone, Maura knew, she simply knew, that this was love. After a life of understanding everything, of thriving off knowledge and wisdom, Maura Isles had finally learned to understand love.


End file.
